In the gray fog I wake
Beneath the green pines
Out along the penisula
High above the sea wave
With an empty feeling
A heavy hollow pull.

Through the windows
Of the mind memories
Come and go like
Deer in the tall ferns
Moss on the old stones
Transparent and cold.

Soon it will be time to go
Down along the new coast
Out past the gray pines
To watch the sun set
Hear the waves crash
The deep earth moan.